


Seven kinds of flowers under his pillow (four kinds of flowers in his lungs)

by havsgast



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Hanahaki Disease, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-18
Updated: 2019-12-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:47:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21853171
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/havsgast/pseuds/havsgast
Summary: The magic of flowers backfires on him, but in the end, it has been worth it.Secret Santa gift for airiervessel
Relationships: Anxiety | Virgil/Creativity | Roman/Logic | Logan/Morality | Patton/Deceit Sanders
Comments: 8
Kudos: 184
Collections: Sanders Sides Secret Santa 2019





	Seven kinds of flowers under his pillow (four kinds of flowers in his lungs)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AirierVessel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AirierVessel/gifts).



**Flowers.**

There is an old tradition in Sweden where you pick seven different kinds of flowers from seven different spots during the silence of the night and put them under your pillow on Midsummer Eve to dream of your future spouse. The tradition has no relevance as to why he conjures seven different kinds of flowers every night to keep under his pillow, but the idea of flowers having magic speaks to him. They have meanings, a whole language of their own; if that isn’t magic, then what is?

He always puts careful thought into what flower to conjure for each person, based on their colour and meaning. It’s a silly tradition, and he can’t remember when or why he started it but he still does it. He has come to think of it as a protection spell; almost like a superstition.

The first flower has been the same from the very beginning; a pink gladiolus; _strength of character, honour, conviction_. It’s a colour that he associates with Thomas, and traits that he wants Thomas to have.

After that first flower, the order and flowers always change. Tonight, the second flower is a scarlet lily. _High-souled aspirations_. The others may doubt him, but he truly wishes Roman the best of luck with his creative endeavours. After the lily is a blue tulip; _respect, tranquillity, trust_ to mirror his own feelings towards Logan. The logical side holds a fond place in his heart for being the most reasonable out of the others. Fourthly comes a daisy, the petals a light blue colour to represent Patton. _Innocence, faith, cheer_. For all that the moral side has an aura of happiness, it has been a while since he saw him smile a real smile. The fifth flower takes the most thought, but he settles on a purple daffodil for _uncertainty, new beginnings_. He has always wanted the best for Virgil, even if the anxious side might not think so. After that comes ivy; _dependence, endurance, faithfulness_. Remus has always been the easiest to find a flower for.

It’s the last flower that is the hardest to chose. He never knows what to conjure for himself; he doesn’t want a flower with negative connotations in case it would ruin the magic for the others. At last, a bright yellow dandelion comes into existence between his gloved fingertips. _Overcoming hardship_.

With the final flower put to rest underneath his pillow, Deceit makes himself ready for bed. It’s already the small hours of the night - he had been reading and lost all sense of time. He knows that he will come to regret it in the morning when Remus wakes him up, but there is nothing to do about it now. He just hopes that his dreams will be pleasant.

His gloves are the last to come off before he slips underneath the covers of his bed. Sleep claims him not long after his head finds its place on his pillow.

_A clearing in a forest spreads out in front of him. There are four men standing there; all of them smiling at him. His chest is filled with a sense of warmth, of belonging. Familiar colours surround him as the men tug him into an embrace. It’s too good to be anything but a dream._

And then he wakes up, a tickle in the back of his throat making it hard to breathe.

Deceit sits up in bed, a hand covering his mouth as he coughs. Sunlight filter through his window; he must have slept until morning although it barely feels like he has slept for five minutes. The feeling of something wet against his hand doesn’t make him feel better, and it’s with a building sense of dread that he lowers his hand from his mouth.

Petals tinged with blood look back at him. Four different kinds of petals; from four different flowers and in four different colours. Petals that he recognises from the flowers that are currently underneath his pillow.

He might pride himself on being articulate with an impressive vocabulary, but there is truly only one word that can sum up how he feels about this situation; _fuck_.

**Lily.**

It’s with a shaking hand that he picks up a scarlet petal between two fingers. He knows how Hanahaki works, he just never thought himself capable of getting it. Deceit holds no hopes that his feelings are reciprocated, but since his role is self-preservation, it’s clear to him that he must confess. Asking anyone to operate on him to remove the flowers from his lungs… he doesn’t think he’s physically capable of that before he has exhausted all other options, and confession is the only other option he has.

Confessing to Roman should be easy, right? He just has to make himself look presentable and find the creative side for a quick conversation. Even if Roman doesn’t feel the same, the act of confessing should slow down the growth of the lilies for some time. With four kinds of flowers, the disease is spreading faster than it would if it was just one kind. He wonders if it would be strange to be thankful that it’s just four. Not that he could ever imagine himself harbouring those kinds of feelings for Remus or Thomas.

Even with a plan of action in mind, he finds himself staring at the bloodied petals in his hand as if transfixed for an additional ten minutes. The feeling of more petals coming up his throat finally spurs him into action, and Deceit hastily leaves his bed in favour of the bathroom. He has to wash his hand and rinse his mouth; any traces of Hanahaki would be a sign of weakness. If there’s one thing that he refuses to do, it’s showing any signs of weakness in the company of others.

After any traces of flowers and blood have been washed away, he looks through his closet to make himself ready for the day. The clothes make the man, as the saying goes, and first impressions are everything. His usual outfit would be too much, and his suit would seem out of place outside the context of a courtroom… As strange as it sounds to him, dressing down seemed to be his best option. He didn’t actually mind wearing jeans, a comfortable sweater and a beanie, but he had never done so around anyone but Remus, and once upon a time, Virgil.

He dresses slowly, making sure that each item of clothing sits just right on his frame before moving on to the next. His gloves are the last thing he reaches for, but he changes his mind about them before he comes into contact with the yellow fabric. With the very real risk of him coughing up more blood and petals during the course of the day, it would be a shame to ruin his gloves. Having settled on not wearing them and otherwise satisfied with how he looks, Deceit leaves his room for the day.

Now to find Roman, and to get breakfast. Not necessarily in that order.

-

Unexpectedly, Roman is the one to find him. Deceit is in their joint kitchen, pouring himself a cup of coffee when Roman comes up to him.

“Ah, you’re just the side that I wanted to see!” Roman greeted him, an almost blinding smile on his face. Deceit can feel a tickle in the back of his throat, and his heart would skip a beat if that was physically possible.

“And for what purpose are you seeking my company?” Deceit questioned, taking a sip of his coffee to swallow the petals back down. His mind is screaming at him to just confess, to get it over with, but he has to wait for a good opportunity.

“I need help setting up a romantic surprise, and you’re the only one with a sense of aesthetic that I trust,” Roman explained. His words made his smile painful to look at; the taste of coffee can’t cover the blood coating Deceit’s mouth. “Do you have time right now?”

“Just let me finish my coffee, and I’ll be ready to help you.”

**Tulip.**

Preparing a romantic surprise for someone else together with Roman had only accelerated the growth of the flowers. Deceit had been forced to excuse himself so that he could cough up the petals that were filling his lungs, making it harder for him to breathe. The blood coating the petals makes the majority of them look red. He should have confessed the moment that he saw Roman, instead of letting this happen… He feels a growing urgency as he washes the petals down the drain.

Deceit gave himself one cursory look over in the mirror to make sure that there weren’t any stains of blood before he exited the bathroom. He had barely closed the door behind him when he found himself face to face with Logan. He should be making his way back to Roman…or he could attempt to confess to Logan. With how big the mindscape was, it could be days before he next runs into the logical side.

“Ah, Deceit. Would you be able to assist me with something?” Logan fixed his tie as he asked, and Deceit’s gaze couldn’t do anything but linger on the way his fingers moved. He wondered what it would be like to tug Logan closer by the tie and kiss him; what kind of kisser would the other be?

“Deceit?”

Ah. Not the right moment to daydream. Deceit turned his face slightly, hoping to hide the flush that took over the bare side.

“Sorry, I was lost in thought. You were saying?”

“I asked if you would be able to assist me with something,” Logan repeated. “I can come back later if you’re currently occupied.”

Between going back to helping Roman plan a romantic surprise for someone else and assisting Logan, the choice was clear. He would much rather take his chances with Logan than knowingly set himself up for failure. It would perhaps make Roman upset with him, but Deceit couldn’t find it in himself to care about that; not when there were currently flowers taking root in his lungs, making his chest ache.

“No need for that, Logan. I have time now.”

The corner of Logan’s lips quirked into a small smile. It was only noticeable if you were looking for it, which made it all the more special. Deceit smiled back before he could control his facial muscles; he really hoped the flush to Logan’s cheeks in response wasn’t just his imagination.

“I’ll try to not keep you long.” Logan answered, and turned to lead the way to his room. Keep him from what, Deceit didn’t know but he thought it best to not read too much into it.

“So what did you want my help with?”

“Assistance,” Logan corrected. “I’m attempting to write a poem, and your vocabulary may be a better fit for it than mine.”

“I don’t know much about poetry; wouldn’t Roman have been more help?”

He tried to not let it shine through his tone of voice how pleased he was that Logan had thought of him first. Poetry wasn’t something he would have expected from Logan, so even if he wouldn’t necessarily be of much help he wanted to sate his curiosity.

“Roman’s use of language is a lot more fanciful than I’m comfortable with.” Logan explained. He glanced back over his shoulder, before coming to a stop in front of the door to his bedroom.

“What kind of poem do you want to write then?”

“A love poem.”

The three words made Deceit falter in his step. It was just his luck that the people he needed to confess to already had romantic feelings for someone else. If he hadn’t already given his word that he would help, he would have turned around and left. The Hanahaki would be unbearable by the time evening arrived at this rate… Perhaps it would be better to ask someone to perform the operation instead of suffering through the accelerated growth of the flowers.

He still had to help Logan before going any further with that thought.

**Daisy.**

By the time that Deceit left Logan’s room, he could feel that the stems have grown long enough to reach his trachea. He at most have hours before the flowers will be destroying his vocal cords, leaving him unable to verbally confess to anyone. A written confession should have the same effect as a verbal one, but he doesn’t feel comfortable putting his hopes on that. Even if he waits with undergoing surgery, he should at the very least attempt to cut the stems of the flowers… but that could likely end up in more damage to his throat than just letting them be.

Lost in thought over what the best course of action would be, Deceit doesn’t notice that someone was attempting to gain his attention. It took the frantic movement of a hand in front of his face for him to realise that Patton was standing in front of him.

“Ah… apologies, Patton. How can I be of service?”

He did his best to not grimace at the way the stems moved against his trachea as he spoke. The sensation was enough to make him want to excuse himself to the bathroom and empty out his stomach, though that would do nothing considering that the flowers were growing in his lungs. There was something cruel about the way his anatomy worked against him; why did Hanahaki have to take root in the lungs?

“I was wondering if you wanted to decorate cookies with me!” Patton smiled at him; the smile was honest and real. Deceit swallowed upon seeing it, a reaction he wouldn’t be able to explain if asked.  
“I’d be honoured.” he answered, a shy smile on his face. At last, someone wanted his help with something domestic; with something that wasn’t meant for someone else. He couldn’t imagine that Patton would be so cruel as to have him help decorate cookies without letting him eat one or two.

“Great! It shouldn’t take too long if we work together.”

Patton took hold of his hand and dragged him in the direction of the kitchen before he was able to form a reply. It made him curious to hear a second remark about an activity not taking too long, but he once more decided to let it be. Decorating cookies could be a tedious job depending on design and amount of details. He didn’t have much experience either, which would likely prolong the process.

Once they entered the kitchen, he was surprised to only see five cookies on the counter. They’re all shaped like hearts, with four of them being an expected size for a cookie and the fifth being much bigger. Piping bags of royal icing in different colours were prepared, laying on the counter next to the sheet of cookies.

“What do you want me to do?” Deceit asked, instead of commenting on the small number of cookies. Maybe Patton had eaten too much of the cookie dough, or the cookies had been eaten by others before they were cool enough for the royal icing to not melt.

“Can you decorate the four smaller ones? There is one colour for each cookie, and then you can do designs with white or black icing if you want.” Patton said as he gestured to six frosting bags; two different shades of blue, one red, one purple, and the mentioned white and black. It was quite obvious who the four cookie hearts were intended for.

“Are you doing the big heart then?”

Patton simply hummed in response and moved the big cookie over to where Deceit wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing. It felt strange, and he wanted to ask, but maybe it was just a question about being patient. Deceit couldn’t think of any reason as to why Patton would hide a cookie for him, except for if it was meant as a surprise. He would just have to wait and see.

Decorating the four cookies he was responsible four would hopefully help take his mind off of things.

**Daffodil.**

While cookie decoration wasn’t his medium of art, he still had to admire the intricate designs that he has managed to do using royal icing. Deceit turned around to show Patton, only to find the kitchen empty. His heart sunk at the realisation that Patton had left without a word and petals rises in his throat. The sink is thankfully close by, as he coughs up a mixture of budding flowers and blood.

The recognition that he’s already in this late a stage of Hanahaki makes his knees feel weak, and he has to grab onto the kitchen counter for support. It's still early in the day, the clock couldn’t be more than three, yet the disease had already gone this far. He had earlier presumed that he had hours left; it wouldn’t surprise him if the reality was mere minutes. The accelerated growth of the flowers was nothing he was familiar with.

Deceit cursed himself for not even attempting to confess to Patton. He watches as the blood and petals go down the drain, much like his chances of surviving the disease. Even surgery must be too late now; he has to do the most of what time he has left. Maybe he should retreat to find Remus, or he should write letters to the others to let them know the truth of his feelings, or he should-

“Hey.”

The word is said softly, but it’s loud enough to break through his spiralling thoughts. Of all the people to seek his company today, he had never expected Virgil to be among them. He pushed a deep breath down before he turned around to face his unexpected companion.

“Don’t worry, I was on my way to leave.” The words come out forced, and the accompanying smile is stiff.

“What, no-” Virgil looks adorably confused. “I was looking for you.”

“Oh. You’ve found me. What do you need?”

Virgil holds up his phone, and then seem to realise that the action isn’t answer enough.

“I’m putting together a playlist, and I wanted to know what you think.”

Deceit doesn’t know if he coughs in surprise or because there are petals tickling his vocal cords. He can’t remember the last time that Virgil wanted his opinion on anything... 

“Okay.” is all he managed to get out as an answer. The whole day has been a strange fever dream, so why not add on more to that?

That was a thought. Perhaps he was actually sick in his bed, plagued by feverish thoughts, and not suffering from Hanahaki for four men that all suddenly wanted his help with strange tasks. It would make more sense than what was currently happening.

“Uh, should we go sit down?” Virgil suggested, with a nod towards the sofa in the living room. Deceit pushed off the kitchen counter that he had been leaning against and followed him into the living room. Sitting down sounded good.

They ended up sitting close together, close enough for their legs to touch. Virgil has one earphone and Deceit has the other; instrumental tracks are playing through them. It’s not what he would have expected from Virgil; instrumentals are something that Deceit admittedly enjoys more than any of the others. There is something calming about the lack of words, about the focus on how the instruments all meld together into music.

Virgil had a fairly solid playlist put together already. There isn’t much input to give, and his vocal cords are thankful for it. He does give a few suggestions for songs that he personally enjoys, and he does comment whenever an instrumental track doesn’t match the feel of the rest, but mostly they sit together in silence. It’s painfully nice. Deceit doesn’t know if the tears he holds back are from the physical pain or from the emotional pain.

The current song that they’re listening to is about to end when it’s suddenly paused. Deceit looks up from the phone screen to see that Virgil is looking back at him.

“I have something to show you.”

**Bouquet.**

The six words may be simple, but they fill him with dread. Could everything that had happened so far have been the set up for a trick? Had they caught on to the fact that he was suffering from Hanahaki and were planning to watch him die from unrequited love?

Deceit felt like a lost lamb led to slaughter as he followed Virgil through their home. Breathing was becoming harder with every step; his death would come no matter what at this rate. He would have preferred to die in his room, but he couldn’t come up with any excuse to leave that didn’t involve revealing his fate. It hurt that he didn’t know if he would be believed if he brought up Hanahaki to any of the others; keeping quiet was the better, the safer option.

“We’re here.” Virgil mentioned and pushed open the door to the very room that Deceit had decorated together with Roman that morning. Confusion washed over him; the room had been set up for a romantic surprise. There were fairy lights, sheer fabric covering the windows, and a fairly impressive pillow fort with a nest of blankets. Why would Virgil want to show him something that he had helped set up?

His confusion only grew as he saw that Roman, Logan and Patton were waiting for them. Their faces all lit up in different ways at the sight of the two of them. If his heart had hurt before, that was nothing compared to now.

“What’s going on?” Deceit asked. The words were weak and accompanied by the taste of blood. Whole flowers were trying to climb up his throat; he wondered if they could see how pale and shaky he was, or if he was truly that good at deceiving others.

He doesn’t realise that Virgil has left his side to join the others until music starts playing. It’s the very same playlist that they had gone over together before coming here. It suddenly seems a lot more romantic when in the setting of this room.

Logan is reciting the poem that he had helped write. The words wash over him, strange and familiar all at once. Deceit can’t understand what joke they’re trying to play, but whatever it is must be at his expense. If he had enough strength left to leave, then he would.

Patton is the next to step forward, a cookie in his hands. Deceit’s vision is blurry, but he makes out black letters against a yellow background. It must be the very same heart-shaped cookie that Patton had decorated when they were together in the kitchen earlier.

“Be our sweet-heart?” both the cookie and Patton say. It’s an awful pun.

There are tears coming down his cheeks. Everything is too much - too confusing, too painful. Deceit barely notices when his knees hit the floor, his legs unable to support him. His body shakes as he coughs; four brilliant flowers falling from his lips and down on the floor for everyone to see.

“Deceit, darling,” Roman’s voice is soft and understanding in his ear. “Why didn’t you tell us?”

“We would never knowingly drag out your pain.” Logan reassures him.

“We never wanted you to suffer.” Patton confirms.

“Oh, Dee,” Virgil embrace him tightly. “We love you too.”

Deceit lifts his head, the feeling of confusion still strong. He doesn’t know when the four of them surrounded him on the floor; he has Virgil’s arms around him and the other three hovering close by.

“You love me?” He asked, voice broken by both tears and damage. It’s slowly getting easier to breathe.

“We love you.” Patton smiles at him, and the smile is bright and real.

“We love you so much.” Roman gushes, wiping the tears carefully from Deceit’s cheeks.

“I don’t have the vocabulary to describe how much we love you.” Logan softly adds.

For the first time that day, Deceit can really breathe.

“I love you too.”


End file.
